


Karkat Vantas: Be the lonely werewolf boy

by phonemicengineer



Series: Lycanthropy Anonymous and Related Associations [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Homestuck
Genre: Gen, Karkat the werewolf and his issues, werewolf!karkat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-04
Updated: 2015-09-04
Packaged: 2018-04-18 22:43:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4723109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phonemicengineer/pseuds/phonemicengineer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You’re supposed to be good at hiding, at keeping to yourself, at making sure that no one notices because being noticed means that someone will know, eventually, and that is a thing that will not (cannot) be happening.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Karkat Vantas: Be the lonely werewolf boy

**Author's Note:**

> Set in the beta kid's first year at Hogwarts

Karkat => WAKE UP

You wake shivering and gasping for breath, numb to your bones despite the blazing fire in your dormitory and the relative waning of cold now that it’s spring. Some of the other boys have even complained about the warmth and have taken to sleeping with their blankets thrown off. 

 _Waning_ cold. Ha. Ha. See what you did there?

Great blistering fuck, the full moon is in three days.

You’ve felt it coming for more than a week now, of course, known is was coming well before that (every day since the last full moon, counting the hours like the scars on your arms, each day a little less time) but it’s still a shock to know that it’s almost on you.

Nepeta noticed. You shudder again at the thought, this one not at all related to the chill. Standing quickly and grabbing your clothes, you hurry to the boy’s washroom. You won’t be getting any more sleep after the nightmare you just had; the circles under your eyes will be darker and your eyes themselves a little more blood-shot but insomnia has always worked as an excuse before (and look at that, it’s even true). 

Nepeta noticed.

You’re eleven years old and you’ve been a werewolf for six of those years. You’re supposed to be good at hiding, at keeping to yourself, at making sure that no one notices because being noticed means that someone will _know_ , eventually, and that is a thing that will not ( _cannot_ ) be happening. The frightening regularity of your decreasing health, the purple half-moons bordering your eyes, your suspicious disappearances; _she noticed_ because she was _worried_ about you.

Nepeta noticed and it terrifies you.

The shorter first year makes a concerned face at you when you come down for breakfast and you can almost imagine which of those dumbass kitty-smiley face she draws on the notes that she gives you during class she’s trying to emulate. 

“You don’t look so up to scratch,” she frowns at you, “Does Karkitty need a catnap?”

She loves your name. You somehow can’t keep yourself from liking her back, even though you know it’s dangerous. 

“That’s not my fucking name,” you grumble, just like you have every day for the past few months. It doesn’t come out nearly as menacing as you want it to because you’re a giant softie.

No, wait, fuck that. You are Sir Knight Badass and you _exude_ toughness. You’re a Gryffindor, for fucks sake, you shit bravery, chivalry and unnecessary risk-taking. The riskiest, it is you. 

You must have said that last part out loud (shit fucking not-working inner monologue) because Nepeta giggles and claps her hands like a three year old and a familiar voice drawls, “More like risqué-est. You going for a new fashion statement in the Freshly Rumpled category, Vantas?”

“Shit,” you grumble, hastily righting the vest and mostly-unbuttoned shirt that have been trying to escape off your shoulder. And Nepeta hadn’t deigned to fucking tell you, dammit. You glare at her. She giggles.

“I thought you looked purrty cute,” she grins. The two of you find seats at the Gryffindor table, Dave (unfortunately) deciding to follow.

For possibly the first time in your acquaintanceship with Nepeta, the sweaty duchebag extraordinaire that follows her around is not present; you are infinitely grateful for this. Strider and Nepeta start chatting about something inane as you scan the Great Hall, your thoughts from earlier creeping back again. 

What if these two ( _friends_ ) annoyances knew about your…affliction? Equius would surely forbid his best friend/little sister/whatever the fuck their weird relationship is from seeing you again ( _didn’t you know? Werewolves are vicious beasts_ , not human _. It would just serve her right if she got her face torn off some day_ ). You would be okay with that. 

(– _empty inside. Lonely, so lonely; someone see me, someone please just_ see me–)

(She would be safer without you)

Strider is an asshole and insanely irritating on his best days, you’d be fucking happy if he finally left you alone. He’d probably want you to stay away from him and his friends anyway, with his stupid over-protective streak.

(Safer without you. Not pity, never pity, just acknowledgement of the danger that you pose)

(– _MONSTER–_ )

At least the teachers know. Noir and Headmaster Harley and the others. At least they can lock you away during that horrible time, keep you away from everyone else–everyone you could hurt–isolate the beast where the only person that will suffer is you.

You deserve it anyway, don’t you? You’re the one that didn’t stay in that night when Dad told you to _stay put_. This is just the pain that comes with your own fucked up life decisions. You can deal with it because it was your fault anyway; you _have_ to deal with it–

“Yo, Cadet Vantas, come in Cadet, this is Command Center. How’s it looking up there in the big, wide, voidyness of space?”

You snap back to yourself with a reflexive glare to your most annoying frien– _classmate_.

“What bullshit are you spouting now, Strider, because I understood exactly fuck-all of that disaster of a word vomit.” 

Nepeta snickers and flicks your ear, smiling in that way that she does that simultaneously shows off way too many teeth and manages to maintain its friendliness. They’re both leaning towards you a bit, Nepeta more obviously so than Dave, and you can’t help thinking about how reassuring it is to have them bracketing you like this. Neither of them is even that big: Dave is a skinny shit with surprisingly more strength than one would think, just looking at him, and tiny Nepeta (‘ _petite’_ Equius would remind you) with the speed and agility of a kitten.

Both are smiling at you. Well, one friendly teeth bearing and one poker-faced smirk. You’re being sentimental, dammit, there’s no time for these semantics.

“Chillax, Vantas,” Strider rolls his eyes at you (you assume he does, anyway, you can’t see anything past those extremely punchable sunglasses), “What crawled into your panties and died?”

“Your mom’s dick,” you growl, reaching for a piece of toast to shove into you mouth. Nepeta laughs again and Dave’s face does that weird not-smiling-but-totally-smiling thing.

“Whatever you say, Karkitty,” Nepeta purrs.

You think about what would happen if you told them about your lycanthropy. What if you told them the real reason that you disappear every month (and always on the full moon, because that’s not a dead give away). What if you told them about the smudges under your eyes, about your nightmares of spontaneously transforming and attacking everyone in your dorm, about your visions of Nepeta with bleeding claw marks on her chest and Dave’s shades in shards on the floor. 

You think about telling them about how you haven’t felt comfortable in your own skin since you were five years old.

You think that maybe you don’t want to loose them just yet. 


End file.
